


Quiet Solidarity

by PhantomMenace



Category: Glee
Genre: Angst, F/F, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Not Canon Compliant, Pre-Relationship, Self-Harm, They both need a Hug, this is a vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-16 16:01:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29703048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhantomMenace/pseuds/PhantomMenace
Summary: TRIGGER WARNING READ THE TAGS BEFORE READINGRachel is devastated, to put it lightly. This one piece of paper was meant to be her ticket out, her escape from this tiny, oppressive and close minded town, but apparently not.OrRachel doesn’t get into NYADA and she relies on an old habit, enter Quinn.(I’m bad at summaries sorry :P)
Relationships: Rachel Berry/Quinn Fabray
Kudos: 24





	Quiet Solidarity

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, So this is my first fic! This is mainly a vent fic for me, as the topic discussed is extremely personal to me. Constructive Criticism would be greatly appreciated as I know it’s probably not very good. If anyone is dealing with the topic of this fic, my dms are always open if you need someone to talk to. Please don’t suffer in silence.

Today was meant to be special. It was meant to be a joyous occasion, full of celebration, happiness and hope. Nothing was meant to bring her down. This was meant to be her day.

It was all ruined by one sentence in one letter.

Rachel is devastated, to put it lightly. This one piece of paper was meant to be her ticket out, her escape from this tiny, oppressive and close minded town. She’s had to dealt with so much, from the bigots in this town who liked to abuse and taunt those who were better than Lima, and knew it, to battling her own mind, her own thoughts of almost crippling self doubt and self hatred, wondering if she even deserves it.

Apparently not according to this stupid rectangle of bleached wood.

Leaving Kurt somewhat alarmed in the middle of the hallway, she flees to a secluded bathroom, which she knows shouldn’t be occupied until the end of school. She’s learned the bathroom timetables after needing a place to change after many, many slushies.

Finally inside the safe confines of the tiled room, she releases the sob slowly making itself present since Kurt excitedly announced he got into NYADA. She knew he deserved it, his performance was the best she’s ever seen from him, if she’s being honest. 

She’s happy for him, she is. But she can’t help her feelings from getting the better of her. 

She can’t keep acting like everything is okay anymore.

Tearily making her way to the mirror, she looks deep into watery chestnut eyes, seeing nothing but ugliness and disappointment and failure. Quickly darting her eyes away, she goes looking for the one thing that will help her. 

The one thing no one else will understand, but will make everything better for her, at least until the end the school day.

She releases hum of satisfaction finding the pink bag, pulling it out of the lining of her schoolbag, and setting it on the counter. She then opens the baggie onto the counter, the contestants spilling out of the bag, making the search for the thin, sharp sliver of metal easy.

Wiping the tears from her eyes, and rolling up her sleeve, she runs the razor lightly over the scars in her arm, both shiny white and raised red scars alike, until she finds a clear section, on her upper forearm.

Putting the metal on her skin, she contemplates putting her materials away and going on with her day, but the voices in her head are getting too loud to deal with anymore.

She has to do this.

Even though she knows it’s wrong, and that people like her shouldn’t be cutting themselves, but she can’t stop.

Shaking those thoughts away, she puts more pressure on the blade, and drags it downward, sighing in relief as the familiar burn, and feeling of heat and pain fill her senses. She feels the blood on her fingers, as satisfaction makes itself present.

Suddenly, bathroom door opens quite loudly.

Startled, she pulls the razor away from her arm fast, forgetting she was still putting pressure on the blade, slicing deep into her arm. She barley holds back a cry of pain, quickly grabbing a wad of paper towel.

“Rachel, are you okay? Kurt told me.....” Quinn trails off the second she sees Rachel, red splattered across the white porcelain of the sink.

Her eyes dart down to where Rachel has the crimson paper towel pressed to her inner forearm, then they trail over to the razor blade, laying in the bowl of the sink, a red glint shining off the edge. 

Wordlessly, Quinn grabs more toilet roll, and approaches Rachel slowly, not wanting to scare the girl again.

Quinn knows exactly what the situation is, she’s been in Rachel’s position more times than she can count. From transitioning from Lucy to Quinn, to her parents putting the weight of the Fabray name and their own expectations on her shoulders, she’s tried to mould herself into the shape everyone wanted her to be. 

And it worked.

Her parents were finally proud of her, she was appointed head cheerleader as a sophomore, and she was the most popular girl at McKinley. 

She had it all right?

Yet she was more unhappy then she was before. So she turned to the razor, the bandaids and the antiseptic cream to try and get relief. 

She wants to help Rachel, be there for her. She wants to be the person she wished was there to help her, still wishes was there for her. She needs to be strong for Rachel, and just accepting her feelings for the diva, she would do anything for this amazing, breathtaking woman.

Quinn reaches toward Rachel, removing the soaked paper from her arm, and looking at what the damage is. Her breath hitches when she sees the wound, a deep dermis injury she concludes.

“Can I?” She breathes out.

Rachel nods slowly, looking resolutely at the floor, biting her lip in shame. 

Quinn then gets to work, stopping the bleeding and cleaning the wound, using the supplies thrown haphazardly across the bathroom counter. Rachel flinches and recoils a few times, but she remains quiet. Quinn knows Rachel wouldn’t want to go to the nurse, so she tries to do as much as she can before they have to resort to getting medical attention. 

Almost as if reading her mind, Rachel whispers “why aren’t you forcing me to go to the nurse?”

“Because I know you won’t want to, and I’ve dealt with injuries like this, so...” Quinn tapers off, hoping Rachel gets the full meaning of her words.

It takes a few seconds, but soon realisation soon flashed itself in Rachel’s eyes. She went though a multitude of emotions until settling on shock and disbelief. Silence then envelops the two girls. Not awkward, but comfortable. Once Quinn is finished tending to the wound, she sees Rachel’s mouth open, probably to explain herself. 

“Quinn I-“

“Rach”, Quinn interrupts, ”you don’t need to explain yourself to me. Trust me, I understand you”

They both let the nickname slide. Rachel can’t look Quinn in the eyes, even though she said she understands, Rachel just feels too much shame, too much disappointment. She said the last time would final. No more, but then everything just fell apart, and her self control just sifted through her fingers.

“Please look at me”

Rachel slowly raises her eyes to meet Quinn’s, as Quinn rolls up her sleeve to properly wash her hands. On the way to hazel orbs of understanding she glances at Quinn’s arms, shocked to find at least 20 scabbing cuts, some more severe than what Rachel did, others barely surface scratches.

Emboldened, she makes direct eye contact, and they stare at each other for what feels like hours until unsurprisingly Rachel throws herself at Quinn, sobbing into her shoulder. Takes by surprise, Quinn takes a few seconds to reciprocate the embrace, whispering soft assurances and promises of help. 

They break apart after a good 5 minutes, and wordlessly Quinn offers Rachel her arms, and Rachel can easily see that even though there look to be only about 20 on first glance, there are hundreds of smaller, faded white scars, much like her own arms.

“Rach? I want you to call me when you feel like hurting yourself again, okay? I’m here to listen to you, and to help you. You’re not alone, alright? This is proof right here”, Quinn tearfully laughs, “can we please ignore our tumultuous past? Because right now we both need each other, and I genuinely want to be your friend.”

Rachel nods happily, smiling a small, soft smile which Quinn just realises she only sees that smile directed towards her. They spend a minute cleaning everything up, and readjusting themselves, so no one cops onto the secret only the two girls know. 

“Let’s go” Rachel says with a smile, offering Quinn her arm to take.

Quinn silently takes her unharmed arm with a grin, and they leave the bathroom together, only to find the next class they have is glee club. They walk to the choir room in silence, just enjoying the each other’s company in the moment.

They sit in the back, pinkies laced, with gentle smiles on their faces. Anyone that passes can obviously see something has changed. It’s something they both need, an ally to walk beside them no matter what, someone who supports them when life gets rough, someone who stands by them in quiet solidarity.


End file.
